One last Ding Dong for old time’s sake

I shouldn’t have eaten it. Forget the empty calories, eating that Ding Dong left me depressed. An editor with a love of Ho Hos had brought in an assortment of Hostess cakes to mourn the company’s closing and I could not resist. I briefly toyed with going for the Twinkie (no longer wrapped in twos, by the way), but instead kept my allegiance to my beloved Ding Dong: the hockey-puck-shaped crème-filled chocolate cake. It’s been many years since I’ve had one.

Ding Dongs remind me of visits to my grandparents, from whom I inherited my massive sweet tooth and love of baking. Who else but your grandparents would indulge a love of processed sugar (see also: Brach’s Pick-a-Mix)? I have fond memories of unwrapping the foil and savoring that chocolatey goodness like it was the last time I would ever eat one.

Now, I want to block out what I just ate. No longer wrapped in foil, the Ding Dong is housed in a generic white opaque plastic wrapper. It could have been anything in there. Something about the foil made that cake special.

Pulling it out of the wrapper, I noticed the cake had shrunk – and that is not just because I have bigger hands and my adult-sized perception has changed. The chocolate shell that once perfectly encased the cake has now obviously been poured on; a little pool of icing has formed around the bottom edge. Biting into it, the shell was waxier than I remember – that coating still remains in my mouth – and the cake is disappointing. What I remember as more like devil’s food is now a dry, blah, lighter-brown chocolate cake. The crème filling also bore the faux creamy effects of using cheaper materials.

I try to avoid pre-made cakes these days. They taste of chemicals, leave a weird coating in my mouth and aren’t worth the calories. I let my nostalgia overrule my good sense: I thought this one truly might be the last Ding Dong I ever ate. I should have stuck with the memories.